


Time to Grow

by BlueNightOwl



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Dick is not having a good conversation, Don't copy to another site, Garfield proceeds to somehow bite Dick's head off and give advice at the same time, Gen, The Titans are the best, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim leaves Gotham, Tim takes a break, because he has an annoying growth spurt, but he needed to hear some of what Garfield had to say, he also finds himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 23:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNightOwl/pseuds/BlueNightOwl
Summary: After a major fallout with his family, Tim leaves Gotham behind and cuts all contact. He then proceeds to hit a late growth spurt and decides to take a break from field work. Only more than a year after Tim leaves Gotham, does Dick, in fact, try to call his younger brother. Unluckily for the man, Garfield is manning the phone and tells Dick a few things that he needed to hear, whether he likes it or not.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83





	Time to Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> Welcome to my third work of fiction in this fandom.  
> There are a few things you should know about this work:  
> 1) It was inspired by a short post on tumblr, several months ago. I think it was in November. Sadly I can’t seem to find it anymore. I was about adult Tim ending up being the tallest batfam member and no one forgiving him for it.  
> 2) This is not what I had planned originally, because I actually wanted the batfam to react to Tim being the tallest. I’ve been working on that version since December. Without much success as you can see. First I couldn’t get Damian’s voice right for the time and character development I wanted him to have, and then, once I finally got all of that right, Alfred, of all people, refused to cooperate.  
> 3) This is me working with my setup from a different angle, so if I actually manage to get everyone to cooperate, you might get another fanfic on this topic.  
> 4) This was supposed to be a short, amusing oneshot. Then, while fleshing out the details, Garfield and Dick demanded to have a conversation and ran away with the fic, turning it into something far more serious than I had planned...
> 
> I hope I haven’t lost you by now, so I’ll put my thoughts on Tim’s height in the note at the end, for anyone that might be interested in that.
> 
> Without further ado, have fun :D

It was not even all that late when Tim returned to Titans Tower one evening. He was furious, his shoulders stiff with tension and he was carrying far more luggage than his usual duffel bag of clothes. That was how the team had known that the situation in Gotham had to have finally escalated.

They had known that it was going to happen for quite a while now, because unlike certain other bats their’s actually talked to them about his problems, even if getting back to that had taken several months of hard work on both sides. The results of that hard work, however, were considerable.  
So, yes, Tim talked to them about his problems, especially the ones concerning the Gotham crowd, so they knew that Tim leaving that city and all it contained behind was only a matter of time. He had changed a lot during his time abroad and shunned form the rest of the hero-community, after all, and endlessly taking shit from other people was no longer in his abilities. He might still bear it for a while, but he had reached a point in his life where he would hit back eventually - metaphorically speaking - and it was apparently time for the clap-back against the bats now.

“T. What happened?” Kon wasted no time with niceties when he relieved his best friend of one of his bags, a worried scowl firm in place on his face.

“Family dinner,” Tim seethed, his eyes dark with anger, “I’m not going back this time! I swear! If they really think that I’m no good at both the night and the day job, well, then they can take care of the workload themselves!”

Garfield nodded, deciding to keep things short in order to calm Tim down, “ok then, let’s get you settled. Details can wait for tomorrow, once you are feeling a little more calm. Want some tea? We have that nice chamomile tea that you like so much.”

“Yes, please,” Tim nodded gratefully, his shoulders dropping a little, “I could really use one.”

“Come then,” Kon settled a big hand on his friend’s slim shoulder and steered him towards his usual room, “by the time we have put this away and you have changed into something more comfy the tea is probably going to be ready.”

Once the two friends were out of sight Cassie and Garfield moved to the kitchen, leaving the others to set up the living area for some serious bonding time, “do you think this is it?”

“I’m relatively sure it is,” the green shape-shifter replied while setting water to boil and preparing the teapot, “the fights between Tim and the rest of the bats have been getting worse for quite a while now, and I don’t think the bats believe this to be as big a thing as Tim does. I know for a fact that Dick is blind to how bad it is. I really don’t know how or why, but he is. Rae and I have even decided not to talk to him about Tim anymore, since apparently the situation with him is not as important as other things to him right now.”

Cassie frowned, “how can he not see just how bad his relationship with Tim is right now?”

“No clue,” Gar shrugged helplessly, “but that’s not even the worst part of it. No, the worst part is that when I brought Tim and their relationship up to him in front of Damian a while back and the brat immediately began trash-talking Tim, Dick said nothing. He just ignored the kid. When I confronted him about it he just shrugged and told me that it’s not a big deal, that Damian is just a kid and that Tim is old enough to know to ignore what the boy says.” He turned to his friend and stared directly into her eyes, “do you have any idea of just how speechless I was in that moment? - I couldn’t say anything and that is probably why Dick remains clueless about the amount of damage Damian’s verbal abuse is doing to Tim.”

“No,” the blonde shook her head, “don’t make his blindness out to be your fault. It’s more likely that he would have gotten into a fight with you about how Damian’s behaviour is harmless had you told him off for his opinion. I remember a time when he was being that protective of Tim as well, to the point of telling Batman off for being too harsh on him. It’s sad to see that he is not capable of being loving and protective to more than one person at a time.”

The kettle whistled, the water boiling, and Gar set to pouring the hot water into the teapot he had previously prepared with herbs. Cassie got the tray a few cups and glasses as well as other drinks.

“I’m just so disappointed in him,” he finally whispered, pulling out bowls and filling them with snacks while the tea steeped. “After all the crap we all collectively went through, after all the darn sensitivity seminars, the talks about the effects of emotional and verbal abuse Batman made us endure in order to be more aware and prepared... it’s just... he should know better. He should know that Damian’s words are harmful to Tim.”

“I understand, but believe me, it’s going to be alright. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. Tim has us, and if he really is done with the bats and cuts off all contact with them, perhaps they will finally get the message that letting Damian run his mouth like that is not ok. They are currently not only failing Tim, they are failing Damian as well, because that kid needs to be taught that physical, emotional and verbal abuse are all the same. That they are bad and that no one should be subjected to any of it. By not teaching him that, he will fail later in life, when people stop being nice because he is no longer a child.” The blonde tried to soothe her friend and fellow team-leader, “I know that that realisation might come too late to save their relationship with Tim, but that’s what we are there for. For him to rely on and to be there for him.”

The small smile he gave her was pained and sad, “I know, it’s just... I thought I knew him... that he wouldn’t ever let something like this happen in his own family.”

“Aw, Gar,” Cassie mumbled and simply went to hug her friend, “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he muttered into her shoulder, hugging her back tightly for a moment before leaning back, “let’s get back to the others. Everything is going to be clearer once Tim calms down a little and tells us what exactly has happened.”

The Titans spend the rest of the evening bonding, talking and watching movies. Hugging and cuddling definitely happened. By the end of the evening Tim was calm enough to actually go to sleep.

The next afternoon revealed the actual depth of the fight Tim had had with his so called family. All of the Titans were furious on his behalf, even Jaime took to seething. Tim took it as the reassurance he so desperately needed and finally told them of the plans he had had for the future for a while now. They told him that they would stand behind him no matter what he decided, but to please sleep on a decision that big for another night or two, just so that he really felt secure in his choice.

He did. Two days later he spoke to Lucius and Tamara Fox over the phone in order to organise his final projects and his replacement at WE - Bruce wouldn’t know about any of it until it was too late for him to try and guilt trip Tim into staying. He spend the next two weeks turning safe-houses back into regular apartments and selling them and all his other property in Gotham. All he had left in that city was his nest, which he decided to keep, just in case he ever needed to return to Gotham. The bats didn’t know where it was anyway and with the way he had sold everything else in his name, they would probably assume that his nest had been one of the sold properties.  
When everything that needed to be done had been done, he send one last message to the bats and cut all contact with them completely.

Tim Drake had just turned eighteen, he was 5'8 and pretty sure that his life could only get better from here on out.

Tim Drake was eighteen and a half years old and had to get new clothes because he freaking outgrew his old ones. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to get bigger anymore... except maybe sideways... Point was, growing nearly two inches in six months this late in life? Something wasn’t right. He expressed this to his friends after another shopping trip.

Cassie merely chuckled, “well, we haven’t fought any magicians as of late nor have we had anything to do with magical artefacts, so that’s out.”

“Maybe this is just the final few inches your body wishes to get out?” Garfield grinned, not at all helpfully, “I remember Wally shooting up a last two inches at nineteen. Got a kick out of how miffed some of the other guys were.”

“Yeah, no worries T,” Bart agreed between bites of his latest snack, “as long as you’re not growing another two inches I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Tim just stared at his red-headed friend, “did you just jinx me?”

Bart looked back at him, eyes wide and seemingly innocent, “I would never.”

“You totally did, hermano,” Jaime piped up from right next to the speedster, then gave Tim a sympathetic look, “I’m so sorry.”

Tim simply waved him off, “I don’t actually think anything big will happen. It’s just that remeasuring and producing new suits, when the old ones are neither that old or that destroyed as well as getting bigger stuff every couple of weeks, is annoying. Gar is probably right and I will stop somewhere around 5'10 or so.”

“If you say so,” Jaime agreed and then proceeded to snatch a few chips from Bart.

And he laid his worries to rest. His friends were right, this were likely just the final two inches his body felt it needed to grow, so yeah, everything was probably fine.

Nothing was fine. He was in pain. Bone deep pain. And he wasn’t talking about the usual type of pain he was in after a good fight, there were no bruises or cracked bones or anything like that. The pain he was in shot through his body - mostly legs and arms, but really, everything hurt - in the evenings and it stayed for almost a good hour before it started to wear off. And then there were the muscle cramps that cropped up during the night and the general exhaustion he was suffering from. It hadn’t even been a full months since he had brought up his suspicion regarding his sudden growth spurt and he had to buy new clothes. Again.

“I’m sorry,” Bart hugged him tightly as he sat down, “I really didn’t mean to jinx you.”

Tim patted his friend’s back, “don’t be. I don’t think that this has anything to do with you saying anything about me growing more, Bart.”

“I agree with that, hermano,” Jaime supplied from Bart’s other side, a small frown on his face, “but I don’t think this is normal anymore. Tim you grew another inch in barely a month. Maybe you should see someone about this. It can’t be healthy.”

“You think I should?”

“Yes, please do,” Cassie spoke up, “you grew almost three inches in seven months and you are in pain all the time right now. And... and I talked to my mom about all of this,” the blonde took a deep breath and brushed one of her hands through her long hair, “my mom said that late growth spurts are not the norm, but they aren’t  _ that _ uncommon either. What worries her is the rate you are growing at. She thinks it’s too quick for your age and suggested that you make sure that there isn’t an illness prompting this.”

“Illness?” Kon’s head shot up in alarm.

The blonde nodded and spoke carefully, “yeah, my mom said that there is a type of... brain tumour that can cause excessive physical growth in children.”

It was suddenly silent enough to hear a pin drop.

“You don’t really think so, do you?” Bart asked into the dead silence of the room.

“Yeah, I mean it can’t be, right? Tim’s not a kid anymore. He should be too old for that, right?” Badly suppressed fear swung in Kon’s voice.

“I don’t know where the cut off is...” Cassie admitted solemnly, eyes cast to the ground.

“Hey, hey now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Garfield decided to break the tension in the room, “personally, I’m pretty convinced that this is nothing more than a way too late growth spurt and nothing to worry about. However,” he held his hand up to stop Cassie before she could say anything, “I think I speak for everyone, when I say that making sure that there is nothing amiss with you is the right thing to do.”

Tim nodded in agreement, a little paler than at the start of the conversation, “better save than sorry. I will make an appointment tomorrow... And,” he paused for a moment, “I think I should stay off the field for a while.”

The following, loud, protest had been expected, but it still took Tim a good five minutes to calm his upset team-mates down.

“Will you just listen for a moment,” he finally hissed at them, “I’m not going to quit entirely. I just want to take a break for a little while.”

When they finally quieted down enough he resumed speaking, “I just want to sit out this weird growth spurt. I have had to remeasure for my suit again, and it’s getting tiring. And expensive. The only remeasuring I want to do for myself in future is because I either lost or gained something that isn’t height.” His face grew a little more sombre, “besides, I have a friend that went through cancer treatment. If there is actually something wrong with me I will be on medical leave anyway. So one way or another I won’t be in the field for some time.”

“Yeah,” Bart piped up, face a mix between upset and serious, “but one reason is funny while the other isn’t at all.”

“I know,” Tim tried to sooth, “and I’m sorry, but I’m sure my time off field will be used effectively.”

Eyes narrowed all around at that, but it was Cassie that spoke up, “just what are you up to Timothy Jackson Drake?”

Tim sighed theatrically, “you know how all monickers I’ve had thus far have basically been hand-me-downs? What I want is something of my own. Something that is just mine. Something that no one can take away from me because it isn’t their’s to decide whether or not I’m good enough for it. I just want something that is all... me.”

That actually got him smiles from everyone, even Rae.

“Ok, that’s cool,” Jaime said, a rarely seen mischievous smile spreading over his face, “are you taking suggestions, hermano?”

That was how they spend the rest of the evening, making name suggestions and sharing (bad) suit designs. It was horrible. Tim couldn’t breath by the end of the night. Bart’s were the worst. It was also the evening Tim stopped going out in the field.

Tim contacted a league approved doctor the following day and made an appointment. Once he spoke to the doctor about what was happening and mentioned what Cassie feared, tests were arranged. However, aside from the fact that he was suffering from a delayed growth spurt, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. The growth spurt would end eventually and there was nothing to worry about. Though the doctor suggested that he take a break from field work, eat healthy and enough and drink plenty so that he could acclimatise to the added height, shifted blood volume and everything else a little easier and with less stress. He agreed.

The team’s relieve that night was palpable. And loud.

When Tim reached 6'0 and was closing in on Kon and Jaime’s height, the Titans settled on ‘stork’ as a nickname for him when they were talking about him to other heroes. He complained about the two of them partaking in that due to them being taller than him. At least until the very day that Jaime put one hand on Tim’s head and the other on his own for a rough measuring and Tim came out to be the slightly taller one. There were no more complains about it from him afterwards, it  _ was _ kinda cute and as long as no one called him ‘beanpole’ or ‘giraffe’ nobody would have to die.

Tim hadn’t been in contact with the batclan for almost fourteen months when Dick decided to call to try and talk to him. Luckily for Tim, Garfield was the one on duty that day and the shape-shifter was still pretty pissy with Dick for the way he downplayed Damian’s verbal attacks on other people. That didn’t mean the conversation went the way Garfield wanted it to.

“This is Titan’s Tower. Please help us prepare for your emergency: If your emergency is about giant monsters, please press 1. Should your emergency be a natural disaster, please press 2. Is your emergency of magical nature, please press 3. Is wacky nonsense involved, please press 4. Was this a mistake and you want the actual Justice League to take care of whatever is going on? Please press 5. If it is something else please press 6. For ordering pizza: please hang up and dial an actual pizza place.”

“Very funny Gar, you know exactly who is calling, this is a vidcall,” Dick grumped with a hard eye roll.

“Not sure I recognise you,” Gar replied, his easygoing smile not really reaching his eyes, “haven’t seen or heard from you in seven months, because you don’t show up for poker-nights any more.”

“I know, I’m sorry Gar, but Damian needed me,” the other man sighed heavily, “he was having a hard time adjusting to Tim not being there anymore."

Garfield’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead, “you mean he had a hard time not being able to monopolise all of the B-man’s free time and undivided attention anymore, don’t you?”

“Gar, that’s not it, he really misses Tim,” Dick started only to be interrupted by his friend.

“You sure about this? Because from where I’m standing it looks more like that little brother of your’s is no longer getting the same amount of time and attention from his father that he used to get while Tim was still around, because guess what? - Tim and Lucius were running WE almost entirely without the big B. And all that free time he had - time that Tim could have used to get his high school diploma, because he dropped out during that hell-year, if any of you would care to remember - all that free time was allotted to his favourite children. And Damian was the recipient of almost all of that,” Garfield was no longer pretending to be relaxed. He leaned forward, his face set into a scowl.

“No, no you got it wrong Gar,” and Dick was frowning as well, clearly unhappy with the accusations levelled against his youngest brother, “he said it himself. He misses having Tim around.”

“What? He actually said those words? You know  _ ‘I miss Tim’ _ ?” Garfield believed in a lot of things, but a miracle of that magnitude? - Pull the other one, there were bells on it!

“Not in so many words...” the other man hemmed and hawed.

“It’s three words Dick. ‘I miss Tim’ is three words. That’s not many. It’s the smallest amount of words he would have to use to express missing someone or something. What did he really say Dick?” The shape-shifter’s voice was hard and left no room for arguing.

Dick swallowed and looked like he didn’t want to say anything at all, but finally decided to anyway, “well he said, and I quote  _ ‘this is all Drake’s fault. Pennyworth is upset. Cain is upset. Brown is upset and so are you and Todd. I fail to understand why though, all he is, is an unqualified, unnecessary thorn in the side of everyone he ever comes in contact with. But at least father would be better off if the interloper hadn’t abandoned all of his duties towards this family.’ _ ”

The five seconds of judgmental silence that Gar gave Dick were enough to make the other man squirm. When he spoke it was with the silence of deadly fury, “Dick, I have absolutely no idea where in that disdainful word vomit you found the kid meaning to say ‘I miss my brother’. All I heard in that, is that he believes that there is nothing about Tim to be liked, that therefore no one should like him and that all he is good for is providing stress relief for his father.”

“You know he has a hard time expressing himself, you need to read between the lines with him,” Dick tried to explain.

“Then teach him how to express himself properly!” Garfield hissed at his friend and former team-mate, “because what you just told me is so messed up, there is nothing positive to read out of.”

“Well one needs a little practice in Damian-speak but...”

“At some point in the future the only people that are willing to get a ‘little practice in Damian-speak’ are going to be doormats, Dick. Do you want that, Dick? Do you want the only people that are willing to be around Damian for extended periods of time to be doormats, people that have no sense of self-worth and people that are so used to verbal abuse that they are willing to suffer it without any complaint? Is that what you want in Damian’s future?” It was a wonder that Garfield had not yet started to scream in anger and frustration.

“You are blowing it way out of proportion, Gar,” Dick snarled, now angry himself, “Damian is only twelve, he’ll learn soon enough.”

“Oh, I would believe that, Dickieboy,” Garfield said, voice dripping venom, “I would really believe that if there was anyone in that family of your’s that actually taught him what is acceptable and what isn’t.”

“I teach him, Alfred teaches him and Bruce does as well,” the Gothamite snapped at his friend, “the three of us teach him right from wrong, and Cass and Jason pitch in as well when they are around.”

“Oh, that’s great,” the shape-shifter’s voice remained hard, “and which one of you taught him that it’s ok to call Tim an ‘interloper’, a ‘replacement’, a ‘placeholder’ or an ‘impostor’. Who taught him that it’s all right to call other people, especially other children, ‘imbeciles’ and ‘wastes of space and air’? Which one of you taught him that he could call my team ‘untrained Neanderthals’, ‘second-rate human beings’ or ‘Drake’s team of hero-rejects’?”

“He called the Titans what?” Dick lost all anger suddenly, appearing completely lost on how he missed that one.

“If that is the only thing you want to concentrate on right now, go ahead,” Garfield snapped, “your beloved little brother called my team ‘untrained Neanderthals’, ‘second-rate human beings’ and ‘Drake’s team of hero-rejects’. And that’s the nice ones buddy. He said more. A lot more. And those things were a lot less nice. Why do you think I banished him from Titans Tower?”

“Tim. I thought you just wanted to back up his choice to leave Gotham behind,” the black haired man stuttered out.

“Oh, I think you’ve got your time line a little messed up. I banned him from Titans Tower a good six months before Timmy packed his bags and said goodbye to you guys with a one-fingered salute,” Garfield couldn’t really keep the pleased note out of his voice, not that he tried very hard, “but I didn’t ban him for badmouthing us, Dick, I banned him because he attacked Kon with kryptonite and refused to give an explanation about his actions after. A threat to the team does not belong into my tower.”

“I didn’t... why didn’t you say anything. I would have talked to Damian,” he intoned dismayed.

“The same way you talked to him about how verbally abusing Tim is not ok?” Garfield inquired heatedly.

“That’s not the same. Damian is a kid, he was abused his entire life, he is just doing what he was taught. Tim knows that and he is already old enough to differentiate between real hate, taught hate and Damian being snappish because he is jealous,” Dick told him in a voice that spoke of having said that a lot of times, even though there was a desperation in there that usually wasn’t.

“Tim was sixteen and then seventeen. He was not an adult, developmentally, he still isn’t and won’t be for a few more years. He was an insecure teenager that had taken heavy emotional hits by all those losses piling up and you think he was in any position to actually tell the difference between real hate and jealousy?” Garfield’s voice was filled with disbelieve, “I know that you were suffering through your own grief, I know that there was way too much asked of you, way too soon: the city, the cowl, the aggressive kid, the league, Cass leaving, Jason having a relapse. What I don’t know to this day is why you thought that Tim would just be fine. What I question even more is why Alfred didn’t take a more active role it that freaking time. He saw you struggling and did absolutely nothing to ease any of this off of you. He left you alone with an aggressive, abused and abusive child and an insecure, grieving teenager that couldn’t see the wood for the trees anymore.

Because let’s make this one very clear right now: Tim was not fine. He had two best friends and two fathers die on him in quick succession. Oh, and then there was his ex pretending to be dead and not telling him she was fine, and then being upset and an ass to him when he was angry with her for it and losing all his trust in her. Tim was slipping and no one caught him, because one of the two adults in his life could not take on another thing without breaking himself, and the other one refused to even pretend that Tim might need an adult to take care of him. Because he could be left alone, he was dependable after all.

Fast forward to Tim hitting rock bottom and going on that wild goose chase that was looking for Bruce, because that is what it was, Dick. A wild goose chase. Tim knows that, Dick. He knew it back then as well, but couldn’t acknowledge it or back down, because if he did? He would have lost his will to live completely. He told me that, Dick, he told me that the only thing that kept him from killing himself, because he lost every single foothold he had ever had, was the hunt for signs of life from a dead man.

You know what else he told me? - He told me that what hurt him wasn’t you not believing him. What hurt him was you not even listening to him and turning the entire hero-community against him. And that includes his own ex-girlfriend and the oh so impartial Oracle.”

“That was... I didn’t...” a stunned, pale Dick took a deep, calming breath, “I never meant to cut him off form the community. All I did was tell the others that Tim was unwell and refused the help I was offering.”

“There is something I need you to understand about yourself Dick: You are the hero every other hero listens to. They trust you and follow your judgment and your lead. You told them that Tim is so lost in his grief that he refused to take the hand you offered and then you stopped looking for him, because you already had way too much on your plate to be healthy. The others didn’t really know that part. They heard you saying that Tim was beyond reach and they saw you stepping back from him. Like the stupid sheep that they are, the rest of the hero-community decided that that meant that Tim was clinically insane and not to be trusted. Dick you ruined Tim’s entire reputation on accident because you underestimated the weight your word holds in the hero-community.” Anger had left Garfield and only weariness stayed behind, “they are still calling him the insane Robin, by the way. Nothing either Tim or this team says or does seems to have any effect on that, if you really want to ever have any chance of talking to Tim ever again - which is why you are calling in the first place, I assume - you might want to set that record straight, and explain - with **words** Dick - what you meant back then, why you chose to not follow his movements anymore and explain to them what you had hoped to accomplish by telling them what you did. Remember: you are trusted by almost everyone. They follow you and your word holds a lot of weight.”

“It didn’t when I offered Tim the address of my psychiatrist,” the other man muttered sullenly.

Garfield just shook his head sadly, “it didn’t because it was too late already. Tim was too far gone down the rabbit hole to even contemplate that you meant anything other than harm.”

“I never meant him harm,” came the desperate, hurt keen.

“I know Dick, but accidental and unintentional as it was, both you and Alfred caused him harm. I have just one question Dick,” Garfield’s tone went from tired and understanding to hard again, “why only then? Why did you only offer him the address of a league approved psychiatrist when he was talking about Bruce being still alive? Why not offer him when his mother died? Why not when his actual father died? Why not offer when Stephanie died? Why not when Kon died? When Bart died? Why not immediately after Bruce died? - You know the one whose death I know you spoke to your psychiatrist about? Dick why did none of you - and I’m including Barbara and Alfred in this, not just you - why did none of you offer to help him be helped before he started babbling about a dead man being alive? To be honest, Dick, I don’t know when you should have offered, but what I do know is that when you did, Tim had long since sailed past the point of no return.”

Dick was in tears at this point, “he had me, Bruce and Alfred. And Babs, too. I didn’t think he would need it.”

“Be honest Dick,” Garfield’s sad voice only added to the truly doleful look in his eyes, “you were out, eventually. You also lived with Bruce and Alfred, and Barbara was your girlfriend: was that enough? Could you ever really talk to them about all of your problems? Without being judged or talked down to? Without being told to pull yourself together because ‘that’s life that’s the way it is’?”

A whispered “No.”

“Then why did you think Tim would fare any better with them than you ever did?”

Dick opened his mouth as if to speak but no word came out. He tried once more and again nothing. After the third unsuccessful attempt at speaking he looked away from his friend.

“Dick?” Garfield called gently, when no reply came he tried again, “Dick look at me, please.”

It took a few moments but the other man eventually turned his gaze back to his friend.

“Dick,” the shape-shifter began, “Tim is fully aware that the entire situation was terrible and that no one bears the responsibility for it alone. He is painfully aware of the part he played in this tale of tragedy, but after everything he has been through in the year he was alone, he is unwilling to remain being the only one to admit his faults. If your family demands apologies from him, they need to apologise to him for their own misdeeds towards him, as well. The last few years have left him incapable of leading any relationship that isn’t one of resentment, on a one-way-street kind of deal.

If he hurts you, he apologises. If you hurt him you apologise. That pertains to physical, emotional and verbal harm. If you cannot do that, he will not deal with you. It’s that simple. This applies to all of you, including Damian.

So a word of advice: I will tell him of this conversation, if he wants it I will give him the recording of it. So next time you call to try and speak to him, it would be smart to be prepared for a really heavy conversation. Not sure it would happen on the first few times you talk, let alone the first contact after more than a year, but it would be better if you knew what you wanted to say when the time comes.

By the way, if you have forgotten how proper apologising works, or if you want tips on how to teach proper apologising to stubborn, taciturn children, I would advice talking to Ma Kent. She raised an all powerful kryptonian to be a respectful member of society, if she can’t help you no one can.”

“I can’t convince you that Damian isn’t a bad child, can I?” Dick asked quietly.

“I was talking about Bruce and Alfred, but if she can give you advice on your assassin child, go for it.”

At this the Gothamite actually managed a small smile, “then thanks for the advice, Gar. It’s no easy task to raise your father and grandfather right.”

“No problem,” suddenly the Titan looked like he had swallowed a lemon, “by the way, talking about Ma Kent reminds me of something Kon told us last night.”

“Dear lord, what’s going on?” The dark haired man’s voice was now tinted with worry.

“Let’s just say that according to Kon, your darling younger brother Damian did something and now hurricane Lois and tornado Ma Kent are headed your way,” Gar hesitated for only a few seconds, “something about no longer tolerating the way Damian treats and speaks to Jon or something. Kon’s pretty sure that at least Lois wants to ban them from hanging out for a while.”

Dick buried his face in his hands, “why? What did he do? What about Clark? Has he no opinion about this?”

“Kon said that Clark’s in the doghouse for trying to downplay Damian’s bad behaviour when he knows that Jon might imitate it, or something,” Gar told his friend conversationally, like there wasn’t trouble on the horizon at all, “pretty sure he said that Clark’s on the couch in his own home for the foreseeable future and that Ma Kent is disappointed in him, because she raised him better than to allow his own child to be bullied and talked down to.”

Dick screamed wordlessly, then heaved a heavy breath, “why? Why can’t he behave for just one afternoon? I know he can. He does it with Miss Rutherford every Wednesday.”

“That might be because he knows that she wouldn’t allow a rude, dirty mouthed brat around her precious puppy and he wouldn’t get to walk the dog for her if he ever stepped even one toe out of line,” Garfield supplied.

The Gothamite’s head flew up to stare at his friend, “how do you know that?”

“Tim,” Gar said plainly, “he told us how the old lady hated disobedient kids and how he only got to walk the doggie when he himself had been well-behaved all afternoon. But say, can I give you one more piece of advice today?”

“Go ahead,” Dick sighed, “it’s not like this conversation can get any harder.”

Garfield leaned onto his forearms, “just a bit, my friend. So, Dick, when Lois and Ma Kent come knocking about Jon and how Damian’s behaviour might be or is affecting him, I want you to listen. I want you to stop yourself from immediately flying of the handle in Damian’s defence and actually listen to what they have to say. Whatever it is that has them this angry about his behaviour, is bound to get him in trouble with other kid’s parents sooner or later. Parents who would at some point throw the school board or the police at Damian and do so gleefully, because they have a problem with Bruce and Damian is giving them an opening to get back at him. It would also be better for him if he learned from mistakes now, at twelve, already and not only at sixteen, seventeen or eighteen. People have an easier time believing that a twelve year old will learn from a reprimand than they have that an eighteen year old will, because that one, by all means, should know better already.  Lois and Ma Kent might also have some tips on getting through Damian’s thick skull.”

There was a look of utter defeat on Dick’s face and he sighed once more, “all right, all right. I’ll try my best to listen to what they have to say, without flying off the handle. And I’ll think about what you told me about Tim. Give him my regards, will you?”

“I will give our stork your greetings. Enjoy your evening.”

“Stork?” Curiosity found it’s way into Dick’s voice.

“Bye Dick.” Garfield grinned and ended the transmission.

  
Garfield gave Tim the details when he returned to the land of the living after a long afternoon nap. He would also give Tim the records of the transmission. Tim would wait a few days before he watched them, however.

A week later, during the next vidcall-session with Cass, Tim would be left breathless with laughter. Apparently Dick had thought that Garfield’s little pet name was his actual new code name. All bat-data-banks had been updated accordingly. Tim Drake was now listed as Titans member ‘Stork’, currently not field active due to unknown reasons, suit-design: unknown.

It was cute but definitely not the code name he had finally settled on. His was better. His was all Tim. All he still needed to do now was to design a new suit. He still had time for that, however, since it appeared that despite reaching 6'1 within fourteen months, his body still wasn’t entirely done growing. The occasional pain in his bones told him that.

The next time they measured Tim’s height was four months after Dick’s first call to Titans Tower. Besides a first, tentative phone call with Dick (an actual phone call, not a vidcall. Tim didn’t want to see any of them yet, if he could help it.), which had not gone all that smoothly, a letter from Bruce had arrived at the Tower three weeks ago. Tim was still ignoring it’s existence. Otherwise nothing much had happened.

“Well, well, well,” Kon grinned down at Tim from where he hovered near his friend’s head, “you mister, are officially the tallest current Titan at a height of 6'2. It looks like you are on your merry way to 6'3, though. You’re getting awfully close.”

“Uuuh,” Bart, standing next to them with a second measuring tape, smirked in amusement, “the little birdie is a big bird now.”

Tim just groaned in answer, “why? I mean I always wanted to be a little bigger, but not like this! I just wanted to be big enough for the condescension and the short-jokes to no longer apply to me. This here, though? - This is ridiculous!”

“Well, there will never again be short-jokes directed at you, hermano,” Jaime tried to be helpful.

“Victor calls me chickadee,” the tall teen deadpanned.

“He loves you?” Jaime smiled apologetically with a shoulder shrug.

Garfield snorted a laugh, “the look on his face when he saw you after all those months of just hearing your voice. I really wish I had that on film.”

“Besides,” the speedster noted something on a clipboard he had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, “chickadee is not only cute, it’s also a pretty low price to pay for him to keep his mouth shut to everyone on the reason of your temporary field-absence.”

“What are you doing, Bart?” Cassie asked, a slightly wary tone in her voice.

“Just comparing some data...”

“Bart, please.” Her wariness was clearer to hear.

The red-head huffed, “fine. I just wanted to know which Batclan member was the tallest right now.”

“Did you crack the Batcomputer to get the data?” Tim asked, voice oddly high.

“Nah,” Bart waved the worried teen off, “but Vic was curious too, so he did.”

The team’s sole non-meta groaned in exasperation. Which did nothing to stop the speedster from talking, “the way it looks right now, you are already taller than the tallest clan member listed.”

That got him everyone’s attention. Kon couldn’t help himself, “say what now?”

Bart waved his clipboard around, “according to the data, Vic so generously organised for me, Nightwing is 5'10, Red Hood is 6'0 - the last time I saw the dude I thought he was taller than that! Really thought he was more like 6'5, but it might just be the scary aura the guy has - and your ex-mentor is 6'2. The rest is irrelevant to the data screening, because they are either too young to be full grown or too small to get anywhere near your height.”

“Uh, Bart?” Jaime decided to interrupt his friend before he started to speed-talk in his excitement - the runner was actually doing an amazing job being so slow, “if Bats is 6'2 then he is the same height as Tim. Kon just declared him 6'2 as well.”

“Nah,” Bart waved the other off, “the Batcomputer didn’t just list their heights in feet and inch, but also in cm - you know the thing most of the world use? - anyway, the big, bad Bat is listed as 188 cm. Tim is 189 cm. He’s taller.”

“How did you get that number of Tim?” Cassie interrupted confused.

The speedster waved his own measuring tape in her direction, “with this, how else?”

Cassie just threw her hands up, “whatever, that’s not really something I want to get into. What I  _ do _ want to get my hands on, on the other hand, are those suit-designs Tim’s been sitting on for weeks now.” She turned to him, “hand them over, before Bart really get’s into it. We won’t get to judge you tonight if he does.”

And just like that Bart’s clipboard disappeared and the red-head started to make grabby hands, “yes, hand them over. Let us judge you.”

Silence reigned for a good three minutes after Tim handed his designs over to his friends. None of them were final, but he wanted to see the general reaction to them. There would be no Discowing suit for him for his new, first own code name if he could help it.

“Why is this so bright? Why did you chose neon red?” Cassie asked, her voice caught somewhere between horrified and awed.

“That’s from the day Bruce’s letter arrived here. I don’t know why, but I felt like I had to make a point and thought that that shade of red would be the best way to show everyone that I no longer belong to the bats,” Tim shrugged as though his colour-choice should have been self-explanatory.

“Ok, if that’s the case for that suit, may I ask just who pissed you off when you went for this design?” Jaime asked, holding another suit-design up. a fairly decent one if one ignored the chosen colours: a bright, eye-watering orange, stark white and a few black highlights. The brightness of the colours made it impossible to miss. None of them wanted that in their lives.

Tim merely squinted at it, “I think that was after you guys got me back from Ra’s.”

“Do you mean the time when you relieved him of several million dollars in savings and blew his new main base sky high? Or the time you pissed another assassin-syndicate off enough to have them attack and pinned everything on the old fart?” Kon inquired, one eyebrow clearly on it’s way into his hairline.

“The first one. He was being such an ass. Lecturing me about being one with the darkness and how I needed to blend in with the shadows, because that is where both he and I belong, blah, blah, blah,” Tim told his friends with one of the most annoyed looks they had seen on him all day, on his face.

“And you decided, what? That the appropriate reaction to that was to design a suit in what has to be the most obnoxious shade of bright orange available on this planet?” The half-krypronian ginned while folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes.” Tim smiled brilliantly.

Garfield just snorted in amusement, “sure, why not. Base the brightness of your suit colours on how petty you are feeling that particular day.”

Tim swept his head around towards the shape-shifter and stared at him in awe for a few seconds, a smile then started to spread slowly across his face, “you are brilliant, Gar. Absolutely brilliant.”

The silence the room fell into after that declaration, was broken by Garfield himself, who was still staring back at the grinning teen, “what have I done?” He asked, a faint fearful tremor in his voice, “gods, Rae, what have I done?”

Raven just gave her boyfriend a gentle smile, “you helped our friend with making a decision. That was a nice thing to do.”

“You may also have just created a monster,” Bart added unhelpfully.

Garfield ended up despairing for quite a few minutes. Tim was just happy with this new, brilliant idea and would spend the next few weeks making some more designs with Gar’s suggestion in mind.

At twenty years Tim itched to go back into the field again, he had been off of it for well over a year and he really wanted to kill the rumour about him retiring. He was in a good position for a return as well: his height had been stable for about eight weeks already (he had landed on the taller side of 6'3 - he might actually have to look into that rumour about his mother and the mailman... might not be as outrageous as he had previously thought...) and while his doctor cautioned him that this might just be a lull before another growth spurt hit, the medical professional had given him his blessing so long as he kept up with his diet and rested enough.  
Furthermore he had adjusted well to his new height, his new weight, the shifted centre of gravity and so on. Neither Gar nor Cassie would allow him to go out if he wasn’t fighting fit.

It was Cassie that helped him with taking his measurements on a quiet afternoon. Her smile was bright and her eyes shined with giddy excitement. She alone had seen his final suit-design, had approved of the standard and the stealth colours with a nod, a smile and a thumbs up and had cried tears of laughter when he had shown her the ‘petty’-colours, the ones he could and would wear whenever he felt like being obnoxious. Which would most likely be on missions in Gotham, if one were to ask any of the Titans.

Two weeks later, it was also Cassie alone that waited for him, sitting on his bed in his room, while he suited up in the bathroom, in his new colours, for the first time. While he was occupied, she marvelled at the stealth-colour suit still sitting on the bed next to her, all mahogany red and dark grey and black, and was glad that the combination had turned out so well. Briefly she eyes the ‘petty’-colours suit right next to it: the combination of red, white and contrasting black wouldn’t be so bad, if the red wasn’t freaking bright neon red and the white wasn’t that stark.

The door to the bathroom opened and Tim stepped back into his room. She stood as he walked up to her, then gave a brief twirl.

“And?” He asked, tilting his head a little in question.

Cassie hummed in thought, lifted her hand to her chin and walked around him slowly, taking in all details.

The suit was beautiful in it’s simplicity: most of the suit was ruby red with a handful of black details, the gloves and gauntlets, up to his elbows, were black. For once there were no spikes on the gauntlets, his gloves, however, now contained retractable claws at his fingertips. The boots and shin guards were black as well. Cassie also knew that the boots’ profile would leave little paw-tracks on soft ground. A short, dark red and black shawl with a hood was wrapped around his shoulders, a brooch with his new symbol pinned on it just below his left shoulder, while a red domino-mask with yellow white-outs adorned his face. The last thing on him was his new, black utility belt.

The blonde smiled at him and started to hover in the air, only to reach up and pull the hood over his head, “it’s perfect, because it’s your’s.”

He smiled back at her and together they left his room to meet the others.

  
Renard Roux would finally hit the streets that night.

  
After he passed inspection by the other Titans, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we have Tim, for once in his life, being the tallest member of the direct batfam. He’s certainly not getting that anywhere else, so I hope he enjoys it while it lasts XD  
> Now I’ve said earlier that I would explain my thoughts on Tim’s height and physical growth in the note here. If you want to know about that keep reading; everyone else can skip to the tl;dr.  
> So yeah, Tim at sixteen/seventeen isn’t exactly all that tall. According to any sources that I could find, he is supposed to be somewhere between 5'5 and 5'7. However any future incarnation we have seen of him, is a good way taller than his teenage self, meaning 5'7 can’t be the end of it for him.  
> And indeed upon further digging I found out that “Batman Family Vol. 2 #5” puts him at 5'9 on page 2. And that while he is still wearing his robin colours. Arkham City puts him at 5'10. Arkham Knight levels that up to 6'0. Before you say anything: Tim is also listed as 6'0 as Batman Beyond in Encyclopedia 3.  
> Furthermore, anyone remember his return arc in Detective Comics? - Future Tim is shown to be taller than Alfred but shorter than Bruce. While Bruce bounces between 6'1 and 6'2 (depending on the comic), Alfred has been listed as 5'9 in an old Detective Comics, while otherwise being listed as 6'0.  
> While comic artist aren’t exactly the most... precise when depicting size differences (I’ve seen Jason being drawn like a scrawny twelve year old while standing next to Dick. He was meant to be an adult at that point, enough said), I would take the constant depiction of adult Tim not being a short king to mean that... it is reasonable to think that he actually can still grow and get taller than 5'6.  
> Which leads me to the conclusion that Tim is one of those people that leaves for college at 18 and measuring like 5'6 or 5'7, only to return about a year later almost an entire foot taller. I have seen that. Live and in colour. Twice. One guy was about 5'2 at seventeen, he moved cities and therefore schools. Met him again about two years later at a music event and almost didn’t recognise him, because he was now almost 6 feet tall. The other guy was a bit taller, about 5'6 or so, last time I saw him was at almost eighteen. Met him again at a reunion five years later, he greeted me with “look I don’t need the stepladder anymore to look you in the eye”. I don’t need to mention that I’m well above average height as well, do I?  
> What I’m saying is, that while the thought of tiny Robin Tim is indeed a cute one, making the assumption that he cannot grow past 5'5 and will always remain small, just because he is sixteen already, might not be the correct one. I personally know two guys that had a delayed growth spurt. It’s not the norm, but it’s not super rare either. Let Tim reach the shelves without a step stool!
> 
> Tl;dr: There was a tumblr post that read along the lines of: ‘Tim grows up to be the tallest batfam member; no one forgives him for it’ and I loved it, because I know that delayed growth spurts can actually happen as I have seen it twice.
> 
> I hope this fic wasn’t too much of a downer, due to Gar and Dick running away with a part of it, and you could actually smile a little here and there. I certainly had fun with this :)  
> I also wanted to mention that this started out as a oneshot of 2456 words and ended like this. I just didn’t know where else to put it XD  
> What do you think about the code name Renard Roux, by the way? Can you identify the animal it is based on? - Personally speaking, it is one of my favourite monickers to give to Tim :D
> 
> BlueNightOwl out.


End file.
